


⣿bricked⣿

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Bounty on Their Head, Comedy, Gen, Humor, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: An odd note left at the precinct leaves the team tracking down a threat on the Lieutenant.For Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt Bounty on Their Head.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	⣿bricked⣿

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rocknghorss](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rocknghorss).



> for my discord friends who bring me great joy and inspire me to write comedy <3 y'all

“Bright!” JT called as Malcolm walked into their row of desks.

Malcolm must have been brain deep in something, because he kept walking without acknowledging him. Seemingly ignored, JT grabbed Malcolm’s arm.

“Excuse me?” Malcolm said, pulling his captured appendage back and stopping alongside JT.

JT handed over a crumpled piece of blue construction paper.

Malcolm took it, reading a crayoned scrawl he deciphered into _10 legos loo⊥ⱻɴ_. “Huh?” he said to JT. “Your kid’s not even born yet.”

“Give me that.” JT snatched the paper back. “Reads like someone’s threatening the Lieutenant.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Malcolm grabbed the paper again. One blue and one red lego brick glued to the middle flapped on the exchange. “One. Zero. Two legos. Looten. You’re reading looten as lieutenant?”

JT’s eyes hit the ceiling, the rest of his stance remaining the same. “No, I’m reading it as Ghostbusters.”

Malcolm glared at him, cocking his head. “Why don’t you call them?”

JT gave him a stare right back, challenging him to give him more lip.

“Suspect’s a little young,” Malcolm noted instead.

“You’d be the first to tell us anyone could write that way,” JT argued. “The one, zero could be binary for two. Two, blue, red, lieutenant.”

Malcolm turned the paper over, looking at both sides. “You think it’s a puzzle?”

“I think it’s a threat,” JT’s voice was firm in his concern, sure there was a problem.

Malcolm glanced around the room, behaving like he was a little more receptive to the information. “Where’d it come from?”

“Left on the reception desk.”

“Anyone can get there.”

“Exactly.”

Malcolm looked to Gil’s office. “Who’s gonna tell Gil?”

JT’s hand shifted on his desk. “That’s why I need you.”

“You’re gonna leave me to try to explain a kid’s art project as a threat?” Malcolm said in disbelief, his hand on his chest.

“From you? He’s used to it. Me? He’d want me drug tested.”

Malcolm’s hands fidgeted in front of him while he talked through options. “Hiding dope? Oxy? You’re too chill for coke — ”

“ _Jesus stop_ ,” JT cut off Malcolm’s reckless ideation before they had a whole bullpen of cops looking at them.

Malcolm put his hands in his pockets and had the decency to look embarrassed, dropping his head a second. “I’m sorry — maybe I got a little too excited.”

“You think?”

“Gonna go talk to a man about a valentine.” Malcolm pointed his thumb at Gil’s office

_Probably the first he’s gotten in a long time. What luck._

* * *

Malcolm’s explanation and reveal of the note did little to boost the credibility that it was a threat.

“Bright, go home,” Gil ordered, turning his back to Malcolm at his desk.

“But — “

“I can confidently say you’re high on _something_ ,” he told the wall plaques identifying his years of service. “It doesn’t matter if it’s — “

Malcolm rattled off the combination of things Gil could be picking up on, “Lack of sleep, a third cup of coffee, and a bit manic, but — “

Gil spun back to Malcolm and leveled a stare designed to make anyone on the team cower. “Home,” Gil demanded.

But Malcolm didn’t move. “It was JT’s idea,” Malcolm ratted him out.

“Excuse me?” Gil stopped and took a long look at him in doubt.

“JT found it at reception, brought it to me for comment. He thinks it’s a threat on you.”

“And you think…”

“It’s a child’s art project.” Malcolm pushed the corner of the construction paper sitting on Gil’s desk.

Gil blew out a breath in frustration. “Get JT in here.”

“You’re gonna believe him and not me?” Malcolm complained.

“Get him before I send you _home_.”

* * *

Gil let JT pull the camera feeds to end the distracting discussion and get them back to work. It being early in the day, it was only a few minutes until they had their hit.

“Still think it’s a kid?” JT asked, pestering Malcolm, the height of a grown adult leaving the note at the reception desk on camera.

Malcolm rolled his eyes.

“We _are_ detectives, you know. Had to solve a whole bunch of cases before you,” JT reminded him.

“What’s the statute of limitations on giving me shit?”

“Forever.”

“Dani!” Malcolm called out the conference room door.

Dani poked her head in.

“Can you see if you can get a hit on this?” JT asked and turned his screen.

“Hey — I called her so you’d stop giving me a hard time, not so you’d put her to work,” Malcolm protested.

“Do you hear yourself right now?” JT objected, sharing a gaze with Dani.

“We’re at work.” Dani cocked her eyes and gave a sigh, retreating back to her desk to see if she could find the figure on video.

* * *

“Hey guys?” Dani called, and Malcolm and JT exited the conference room to crowd around her desk.

“What’s up?” Malcolm asked.

“He never left the building.”

“What do you mean?” Malcolm continued, as if something had been unclear.

“He’s still here.” Dani made several taps between her keyboard and mouse, proving her point on screen. “Front and backdoor cams — never left.”

* * *

“This is _all_ ridiculous.” Gil rubbed his forehead, not believing what his team was telling him.

“We have an unidentified civilian in the building,” JT reminded.

“They wouldn’t be able to get past the front desk,” Gil argued, walking out of his office.

JT and Malcolm followed Gil to reception, and Dani went back to work at her desk, leaving them to sort it out.

“Okay — do you see him here?” Malcolm pointed around the small space.

“No,” JT spoke up first.

“Well, if you’re saying he’s not gone, he’s gotta be between here and the entrance,” Gil said matter of factly.

Gil strode through the hallway to the front door, the two of them still in tow, his footsteps echoing the pace he wanted the whole situation over with. Swinging the door open, he took a step out of the precinct, and a brick dropped in front of him, the corner cracking at his feet.

Before he could consider what was happening, Gil was yanked back inside by the neck of his jacket, JT hollering out for backup, “Someone’s on the roof!”

Malcolm had already taken off. “ _Bright!_ “ Gil snapped, shrugging off JT’s hands. “Go after him,” Gil directed.

Gil brought up the rear, shouting, “Powell!” as they made their way to the stairway.

As soon as they made it to the top, they realized brick man had already found himself a hostage. A Malcolm-sized wiry ball of hostage.

“ _Hi! I’m Bright!_ “ Malcolm started, overly excited and gesturing with his arms.

“Shut up!” the man pulled tighter around his shoulders.

JT, Gil, and Dani all pointed their guns at him and slowly fanned out.

“They said any tool would do, so now I choose you. You can be my first crit,” brick man explained, eyes wide in exhilaration.

“I don’t think you want to do that. You see, my friends — “ Malcolm continued.

“ _Bright_ — shut up,” Gil demanded with heavy grit, brick man’s eyes far from stable and none of them able to get a clear shot.

“You should listen,” brick man advised, holding him closer still.

“You know, I don’t think you actually have a gun,” Malcolm goaded, testing the feel of what was held against his back.

A simultaneous crunch to the instep, bob, and throw later, and Malcolm had the man sprawled out on the ground.

“Oh, guess that was real,” Malcolm noted, dislodging the gun from brick man’s hand. “Would’ve wanted to take the safety off, though,” he said, kicking the gun away.

“Take him,” Gil ordered JT.

JT put cuffs on brick man and took him away from Malcolm’s hold.

“You blocked my 10,000 gifted subs, man,” brick man complained as he was brought to his feet.

“What in the hell did you think you were doing?” Gil spit in frustration at the level of antics and paperwork that had reared its ugly head in his precinct.

“We’re playing _one brick, two brick, red brick, dead dick_ ,” brick man sneered, still enjoying his activity.

Dani and Malcolm exchanged glances — were they in a film noir now? “How did you even get up here?” Gil asked.

“A keycard! Say hi to my folks on stream!” He smiled wide, teeth glittering with the fame of a hundred thousand viewers.

JT followed the man’s eyes up to find a drone flying above them. If only he could shoot it down. Easy pickings.

“Controls,” Gil ground out.

“It’s homing, so I got nothing.” Brick man shrugged, very pleased with himself.

“Get this idiot back inside,” Gil directed, at the end of his rope.

As soon as JT and Dani led the man through the door, the drone moved further forward. Gil rubbed his forehead — what had he done to deserve these shenanigans? Did he need sage? Jackie would have burned sage.

“Some wild day, huh?” Malcolm commented, bouncy as could be.

“Now you’re high from being held at gunpoint,” Gil accused, his hand that was gesturing at Malcolm shaking in pent up aggravation.

“But I didn’t think it was gunpoint!” The whole top of his body leaned toward Gil. “So not really _that_ high.”

“I’d tell you you’re not allowed out of my sight, but then I’d lose my mind.”

“You saying all this for the cameras?” Malcolm pointed back to the drone above them.

Gil pushed Malcolm inside and followed, allowing his next statement to bellow through the concrete stairwell. “If you do _anything_ else to put yourself in danger, you’re — “

“Bricked?”

“ _Bright!_ “

“Did you know bricks are the happiest construction materials?”

“That’s it.” Gil grabbed Malcolm by the collar and led him down all the stairs and out the back to his car. He closed him inside and got in. “We’re going for a drive.”

“Concrete shoes?”

Gil glared at him and started the car.

Malcolm still didn’t let up. “Do you know where dead bricks go?”

“I _beg_ you not to tell me.”

“The cementery.”

“You want me to leave you for dead?”

“That’s probably frowned upon, you being the Lieutenant and all.” Malcolm’s hand twittered over the center console.

“I need you at a full night’s sleep before you come back in again,” Gil begged. For _everyone’s_ sanity. For Malcolm’s safety.

“So zero to one hours?”

“At least five. Consecutive. In one night.” He would have been tsking his finger at him if he wasn’t driving. “And slow down on the coffee.”

“You might ask why the problem instead of dictating a solution.”

“What’s the problem?” Gil held his breath like he was going to regret asking.

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Which is — “

“To say I have no idea.”

“Kid — “

Malcolm looked out the window. “Let’s go back to you chewing me out.”

“How ‘bout we go in silence?” Gil suggested instead. It was only a little bit further until he would have the kid home.

Agreeing to the request, Malcolm pulled out his phone and pressed into photos. He played with the picture of the construction paper note, reading _ɴᴇᴛool one brick, two brick, red brick, blue brick 0-1_. “I think we might have a murdered cop out there,” Malcolm commented.

Gil pounded his fist against the rim of the steering wheel.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
